


Hypothetical

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Peter/Charley, phone sex. Peter's feeling horny and gives Charley a call... After all, Peter's got himself a sexy voice...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypothetical

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

The ring of his phone woke Charley from a dead sleep.  There was really only one person it could be.

He fumbled for it, and sure enough, his phone blinked: _2:18am.  Peter._  God he hoped he was just bored and not trapped in his panic room, hunted by the evil undead.

“'lo?  Peter, what's wrong?”

Peter sounded almost chipper, and a bit drunk.  “How's my favorite barely legal?”

Charley sighed with relief.  Bored, then.  “Great.  Greater a minute ago when I was asleep.  How many cocktails have you had, Peter?

“None,” he protested.  “Okay, one.  A couple.”

“So you're okay?  No imminent death?”  He got ready to hang up and go back to sleep.

“No, no death.  But I do have a small problem.  Well, not _small_ , exactly.  Hard, though.”

Charley groaned, sleepily.  “Seriously, dude?  Is this a booty call?”

“No.”  Peter sounded offended.  “No, I could go downstairs right now and find someone to fuck, if I wanted to.  But I am bored.  And uncomfortably hard.  And you're very good at alleviating both of those problems.”

Definitely more awake now, Charley felt himself flush with heat.  The whole sex thing between them was new, and incredibly thrilling, but something they never talked about.  When they weren't _in the moment_ , it didn't exist.

He laughed it off.  “You know, Peter, calling someone when you're bored and horny, is pretty much the definition of—”

“Shut up.  Are you coming over?”

“Tempting.”  And god it was, it really was, but he made sure it sounded sarcastic.  Peter didn't need any _ego_ stroking.  “But I have class early.  Not all of us can buy our degrees.”

“Oi!  Life experience is worth a million pieces of bloody paper.  And as I recall, you are quite fond _of my experience_.”  His voice pitched low on the last couple words and Charley couldn't keep his body from starting to respond.   _Damn_ him.  He wouldn't admit this to anyone, least of all to Peter, but it was a little ridiculous just how sexy he found this guy's voice.

“You really aren't coming over?”  Peter almost whined.

“I'm really not.”  And then because he was half-hard himself and more than half-curious about what Peter would say, he cleared his throat and shakily offered another proposal.  “But, but...if I were...  Say I came to the penthouse in the middle of the night... What would we do?”

“What do you _think_?” Peter said like Charley was some kind of idiot and NOT awkwardly trying his hand at phone seduction.

“I mean, _specifically_.”

“Oh.   _Oh_.”  He could hear the delighted smile in Peter's voice.  And then the clink of ice against a glass as he paused to take a long drink.  “Well,” he said finally, “What would you be wearing?”

“Pajamas.  T-shirt and boxers.”

“You'd leave the house in that?  We could have perhaps just come from sorting out a ferocious vampire, sweaty and bothered—”

“In this hypothetical,” Charley said quickly, “I might have been woken up in the middle of the night.  I might be in a rush.”

“Oh fine.  Minus points for lack of originality.  But in that case, so would I be—in a rush.  I wouldn't even let you get into the flat proper.  I'd push you up against the haunted antiques case, my whole body against yours, snog you senseless... Driving my tongue in your mouth, wet, a little messy, since we’re rushing, my hands tugging, just _pulling_ at your hair like I know you like.”

God, Peter was _good_ at this.  He should have known.  Charley groaned, imagining the scenario Peter described, that mouth, that _tongue_ , those long fingers that drove him crazy.  Imagining what he _wasn't_ saying... feeling the other man get hard against him through jeans, or those skin-tight leather pants, or that barely there silk robe.  His hand slid onto his stomach, already wanting to touch himself, but holding off, waiting for Peter to go on.

“Mmm,” the voice on the other end of the line purred. “You'd groan just like that.  I'd slip one of my hands down, over your stomach... reaching down into your—” a short amused laugh, “—your boxer shorts...”

Charley pushed the offending garment out of the way, off his hips.  And feeling overheated, he whipped his t-shirt off as well, quickly getting the phone back into position after.  He heard himself begin to pant in anticipation of each word, biting his lip to stifle it.

Peter's voice sounded a little strained too, like his mouth was dry.  Probably had put down his drink, by now.  “I’d wrap my hand around.  You'd... You'd be hard already.  Are you, Charley?  Hard already?”

“Nnngggh,” Charley gasp-mumbled, which he figured was response enough.  He gave in, wrapped his hand around his cock.  Just gripping, not yet stroking.

“This is a two-way street,” Peter chided.  “Talk to me.”

Charley opened his mouth to speak, but his mind was blank.  “What…” he said, after a few moments silence, “…would you do next?”

“That's cheating.  What would you _want_ me to do?”

Charley swallowed.  Spoke quickly.  “Drag me inside.  The bedroom.  Take off all our clothes.”

Peter laughed.  “You're skipping steps, Charley.”

“I don't care.  I want to be naked with you.”  He knew he wasn’t phrasing it as ‘hypothetical.’  He didn’t care; it was true.

“So come _over_.”  The need in Peter's voice shot another bolt of lust through Charley, and he had to stroke himself, roughly, just one, hard pull.

“Can't,” he muttered.  “Couldn't drive like this, anyway.”  He gave a strangled laugh as he stroked downward again.

“Fine.  We were naked?” Peter prompted.

Taking a deep breath, Charley went on.  “I’d push you down on the bed, on your back.”  
   
“Oh?”  
   
“Yeah.  And…”  Charley struggled, a million different things he’d want to do to a naked Peter splayed out before him rushing through his head.  “I’d… I’d climb over you, push your hands up over you head, kiss you _hard_.”  
   
“I do love your lips, Charley, your mouth…”   It was absent, breathless, like Peter didn’t even know he’d spoken.  The rhythmic rustle of fabric he could hear over the line told him all he needed to know.  
   
Charley couldn’t hold back and he began his own stroking rhythm, trying to stay slow, figuring they had a lot more _conversation_ left.  He forced himself to keep speaking, letting himself be taken down into the fantasy.  “You’d push your hips up, and I’d grind down, and our cocks would slide against each other and that friction, it’d be so good…”  He trailed off, remembering the sensations he was describing, thinking he could come, just like this, just listening to Peter breathe.  
   
“It would be.  But I wouldn’t let you for long,” Peter said suddenly, sounding strained but collected.  Charley suspected he’d stopped, not wanting to come yet either.  
   
“What would you do then?” he breathed.  
   
“I’d pull my hands loose. Wrap them around your body.  Flip _you_ onto your back.  You know how I do like to be on top.”  
   
Charley laughed a little.  “Yeah, sometimes.”  
   
“ _This_ time.  I’d pull my hips away.  Oh, we’re not coming yet.  Let _go_ , Charley.”  
   
The command took him by surprise, but Charley did as the other man said, and clenched his hand in the sheets next to his hip.  “O—okay.”  
   
“I’d kiss down your body, starting at your chin.  Sliding my tongue along your throat.  Your neck is…  It’s no wonder…”  Peter cleared his throat.  Then came the sound of him taking another drink.  “I’d suck there for a minute, that spot where your neck meets you’re shoulder—”  
   
“Yes—”  
   
“But not too hard, not too long.  Wouldn’t want to mark you, would I?”  
   
“You could.  It’s hypothetical.”  
   
Peter laughed.  Charley reached for his cock again, groaning at the contact.  
   
“Charley,” Peter warned.  
   
“ _Please_ , go on.”  
   
He didn’t right away, and there was more shifting and rustling.  And then, Peter’s voice again, sounding a littler further away.  “I’d kiss down your chest.  Just barely grazing your nipples.   I’d be… maybe running out of patience by this point.   I’d want to get to your cock…”  
   
“Um… uh-huh,” Charley prompted.  
   
“Still, I’d slide my tongue slowly, slowly down your stomach until I got there.  And then I’d plant my hands on your hips, and then just take you all the way in, as deep I could, into my mouth.”  
   
“Gnnnuh.”  
   
“And your hips would arch, you wouldn’t be able to control it.”  
   
“You’re right,” Charley managed to choke out.  And his hips did, do just as Peter described.  Charley pushed into his tight fist to the rhythm of the other man’s words.  And it didn't ruin the illusion that Peter was talking while describing having his mouth otherwise occupied, it somehow heightened it.

“I’d pull back slowly, sucking, before sliding down again, and up, so wet and hot.  I know you love my mouth too, Charley.”  
   
“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“You'd be so, so close…”  
   
Charley _whimpered_.  He was so almost there.

“But I wouldn't let you come.  I'd stop.”

He stopped stroking.   “What?  Why?”

“Because I'd want to fuck you, Charley,” he said matter-of-factly.  “Want you to come when I'm inside you.”

“ _Jesus_.”

“You'd still be on your back, I wouldn’t want you to turn over.”

“Really?”  Charley asked.  Face to face?  They'd never done it that way.  It was… god, the idea of it, so _intimate_.  So fucking hot.  His hand moved again, frantically.

“I want to see your face when I push into you.”  
   
“Fuck,” Charley gasped, managing somehow, to note the tense shift, and Peter’s very real desire.  “ _Yes_.”  
   
“You’d be so tight, Charley.  God, I love this.  Can never get enough of you,” Peter panted, each word sounding like a struggle.  “Balls-deep, I’d fuck you fast, because that’s what you want and I need you and I need to come.  And I wouldn’t even need to touch you, would I?  You’re so hard.”  
   
“Please,” Charley begged again.  
   
“Inside you, that spot that’s so good, I’d be rubbing against it, every stroke, every thrust of my hips, I—”  
   
“Yes?”   _Yes_.  Just a few more words, another couple strokes.  
   
“I need—I’m—Charley I’m gonna—”  
   
Charley’s hips arched a final time into his fist, his body stiffened and he came, hot and messy against his hand and stomach.  And that amazing groan he’d become so familiar with lately, it sounded through his phone’s tiny speaker, and he knew Peter had too.  
   
They panted together on the phone for a while, neither speaking.  
   
Finally, there was the click of a lighter, and Peter’s slow, deep inhale of smoke.   “Didn’t know you had it in you, kid.”  
   
“I didn’t.  Hypothetical, remember?”  
   
Peter _giggled_.  It was kind of adorable.   Charley smiled into the phone.  
   
“Charley?”  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“Come by tomorrow.”  
   
“I’ll be there.”

 

FIN


End file.
